Four Sonyas

by Paral, VladimIr

Mr. Ruda Mach’s lips silently say YES, and in response all four Sonyas kiss those lips.

  “I’m not crazy about anyone kissing you but me,” says Mr. Ruda Mach.

  “Me neither. But I can put up with it a bit longer…”

  But once again Uncle is already applauding me impatiently, that kiss must have struck him as indecently long — and possibly too good for just five crowns … Uncle’s given me another nasty look and then hastily—as the always prepared S.-Marikka—I divide my restrained favors between tickets Nos. 7 (a from room No. 6) and 4 (the forester Sames, who pinches and smells).

  Ticket No. 9 is the property of Mr. Ziki, in no hurry he walks toward me through the tables, an extremely elegant (today for the first time he isn’t wearing that brown shirt and that loud yellow tie…) and rather terrifying gentleman. Is he carrying that brown revolver in his pocket? (S.-Marikka thinks that Mr. Ziki has something about him that’s quite special, perhaps even cruel, but strangely fascinating…”His wallet, maybe?” Antisonya grins. S.-Marie is frightened of him.)

  Mr. Ziki kisses coldly, but perfectly.

  “In my house in Usti I’ve got a beautiful room waiting for you,” he says drily. “With a view of the garden.”

  “Uncle and Auntie would never let me go,” S.-Marikka chirps flirtatiously.

  “I could take care of that in five minutes.”

  “Would Mrs. Zahnova and I still sleep in the same bed?”

  “Zahnova lives on the ground floor and she would obey you like a dog.”

  “It’s a deal!” S.-Marikka laughs. “But first I want a pretty lady’s pistol. And a platinum anklet!”

  “If we leave today, you can get the weapon by lunchtime. And the anklet before dinner in Prague.”

  The smile S.-Marikka gave to Ziki contained many promises, and now we have the last drawing of the first series: Petrik Metelka skulks forward with blazing ears for a little buss from me … how ashamed he is, and for no reason, actually he might be the best of them all, not only because he’s the youngest, but also because he’s the purest, the sort I might have deserved — and liked the best…

  Before the second series Uncle orders “a small musical interlude for the beauty of the ear and right after it we’ll go on to the second round, sit on the stool, Sonya, and give us that one about the star!”

  And Sonya sat on the piano stool, raised her eyes to the ceiling, put her fingers on the keys, and sang:

  After dusk has fallen,

  When it’s growing late,

  I sit outside on the bench

  Beside our garden gate.

  I look up at the heavens,

  I look up at my star.

  Where are you, where are you, my star—

  Where are you, where are you, my star…

  At his table, in torment, Jakub covered his face with his hands while Sonya was kissing Ruda Mach, writhed with anger while she was kissing Ziki, and suffered during young Metelka’s turn ABSOLUTELY UNBEARABLE — once more with another ticket in his hand he went up to invite Sonya to leave with him by the last train of the night, and if she cannot or will not, I will put an end to this disgusting masquerade:

  First of all, unscrew all the fuses in the corridor. Using a flashlight in the darkness that follows, activate the civilian defense alarm on the roof. Pull the fire extinguishers down from the wall, release their safety catches in the corridor, open the door to the bar with his foot—but the people will already be running out of there—and fire at them a full dose of freezing flakes of CO2.

  Jakub felt for the flashlight in his pocket and just then Wolf Zahn came into the bar wearing a black leather jacket, he looked about lazily and went over to sit down at Ziki’s table, the gangster has come to tell his boss that everything’s ready—

  What had the GANG AGAINST SONYA prepared? 5:11 Wolf Zahn had driven up in a gray van, license No. UL-91-91, he parked it in the yard and then didn’t budge, so that until now an investigation was not feasible — now he clearly comes ready for action—

  Now that an investigation was feasible, Jakub got up from his table and, inconspicuously, with his hands in his pockets, sauntered out to the corridor, silently ran down it (while taking stock of the electric fuses and fire extinguishers filled with CO2) and in the darkness of the yard he took the long way around to the right (because it faced away from the windows of the kitchen and of the Volrabs’ bedroom) side of Zahn’s van.

  The front and back doors of the van were locked, of course, but now was no time for technical niceties or even common decencies, Jakub wrapped his fist in his handkerchief, knocked out the side window, and made his way into the back of the van.

  From the kitchen window very little light reached here, but it was still more than enough to confirm the very worst: on the floor of the van lay a folding metal stretcher, to which four leather straps had been fastened—for tying down a victim—next to it a tarp and two blankets, so no one could hear Sonya screaming when they tied her down—

  In the corner, in a metal receptacle packed with excelsior, a glass 25-liter carboy, upon opening it a gust of ammonia. Releasing 25 liters of ammonia would incapacitate all living things over a space of more than two acres — along with carefully placed explosives and hand smoke-grenades of the series RDG, it was enough for a paramilitary squad to capture a town.

  Right by the door a small canister, when you unscrew the top you can smell the sweet, heavy scent of chloroform—evidently for one-on-one combat. Beside it a ball of silk parachute wire, a truncheon—so the captive would give in as soon as possible…

  And here we have a license plate numbered PB—that’s Pribram, isn’t it—PB-26-52, for quick concealment in case of detection … and on the front seat, just like gangsters: black stockings to pull down over the face, 3 pairs of dark glasses with convex lenses, 2 hypodermic needles, 2 vials of hypodermic solution.

  As soon as Volrabka had gone out of the kitchen and into the bar to cut, in person, her “hazelnut” cake (made of the cheapest grade of peanuts and stale Sana), Berta Zahnova sprang from her corner behind the stove, ran through the kitchen, and shut the door to the Volrabs’ bedroom behind her.

  Mr. Holy wanted her to find our girl’s citizen I.D. (to have it ready in case in five minutes’ time we may feel like going to Usti), Zahnova drew out of her apron a small but effective flashlight in the form of a fountain pen (a gift Ziki had bought at the London Woolworth’s) and she began systematically to search from corner to corner, under the beds, in the pillows, in the night tables, in the wardrobes — she drew up a chair and with the flashlight in her teeth examined Volrab’s papers piled right up to the ceiling.

  I look up to the heavens

  I look up to a starrr,

  Where arre you, where arre you, my loovelyy starrr…

  Volrab crooned happily with his hand on his glowing brass pipe as he affably watched how carefully darling Volrabka was setting the nut cake down … a cube of Sana, a pinch of flour, chopped peanuts, baking powder, and three yellow sherbet-powder tablets, and how the ladies and gentlemen lick their chops over it, Mme. Baladova takes two pieces at three fifty per, chink-chink, I’ve got the whole cost sheet for the cake at home and what’s left is pure, clear profit, Mme. Baladova also takes two pieces so she doesn’t look like a skinflint, it’s the ladies who have to put up a good front at a soirée, and so thanks for your seven crowns, my good lady, chink-chink: I’ll write it down in my accounts — it will be like Silesian headcheese with bacon, mmm! And Ranger Sames raises his thumb and then his pinkie, that means a beer and a small beer chaser, chink-chink, it’s already being drawn for you,

  …Wherre arre you, wherre arre you, my loovelyy starrr…

  after an aperitif pastries do just fine, Ranger, and then there’ll be Garnished Platter Grand Hubertus at eleven, chink-chink, and at midnight I’ll bring out the Hamburg Pilot Fish, covered with hydrochloric acid, for a fiver, chink-chink, after which we’ll serve wine—’cause the beer will have run out by then, hi-hi—and centur
y-old monk’s brew.

  …Wherre arre you, wherre arre you, wherre arre you…

  Jakub crawled out through the broken window of the van and in the cool of the night breeze he was wiping cold sweat from his forehead when he caught sight of a little light dancing inside the Volrabs’ bedroom.

  Forward leaps and then slowly along the wall to stretch his head, protected by his bent forearm, toward the bottom of the window frame — in the darkness of the bedroom a small point of light right below the ceiling and once you accommodate your retinas you could see Berta Zahnova with a flashlight in her teeth grubbing wildly through some papers…

  Why didn’t you turn on the light, Mrs. Zahnova? … And what could you possibly need so urgently just now? … Is this Ziki’s surprise attack on the Volrabs? No question. Either Volrab doesn’t belong to Ziki’s gang, or Zahnova and Volrab belong to rival gangs in Ziki’s underworld…

  But now Sonya’s at stake, and the freight in Ziki’s van and Zahn’s presence in the bar dictate prompt action, at whatever cost… Even at the cost of establishing hitherto unimaginable (and then imaginable only for as long as the campaign takes!) contact—

  Jakub burst through the corridor and flew into the bar right up to the counter, on catching sight of Volrab he stifled his disgust—that bald, repellent swindler who exploits and now prostitutes my Sonya—only with a stubborn effort of his will (only for as long as the campaign takes!) and out of breath he informed Volrab about the plots against Sonya, “…in that van they have everything prepared for tying up, gagging, torturing, and rendering her unconscious…”

  “I’m surprised,” Volrab answered with equanimity, “that you forgot about your authorities and took it upon yourself to break into a strange car — Hey! Wherre arre you, wherre arre you, my loovelyy starr…”

  “I’m telling you again: Engineer Holy and his people are preparing to kidnap your ward Sonya, and the penalty for such a felony—”

  “More of your authorities, huh! Pardon me, but why would Engineer Holy try to kidnap Sonya when all he’s got to do is ask me and I’ll give her to him myself — Wherre arre you, wherre arre you. . .”

  “You already sent her to his room, didn’t you? So excuse me for bothering you, I’ll take care of things some other way!”

  “…Wherre arre you — my loovelyy starr…”

  “Maybe you’ll be more interested to know that at this very moment Berta Zahnova is in your bedroom with a flashlight in her teeth, plundering your papers up on top of the wardrobe.”

  “Wherre arre you. . . What’s that you say? I haven’t got any papers… Berta! Darling, come here right away. Forget that cake and get a move on—”

  The Volrabs flew into the kitchen and a moment later a cry reached the bar, then a dull thud (as if somebody had fallen off a chair) and a growing hubbub.

  “I just want to go on enjoying myself like this a bit longer,” Ziki told Wolf Zahn, entertaining himself by watching a circlet of lemon swimming in a glass of Gancia white vermouth, he clinked the ice against the side of the glass and took a sip. Then he leaned back lazily in his chair and played with the twenty-dollar piece in his pocket (he clinked it against his pistol).

  I’m simply enjoying myself. Why in this miserable hotel? An easy twenty-minute drive and I can be almost a mile above sea level (you can’t do that in London, in Paris, or in Rome, Madrid, or New York) and the mountains do me good. The only problem here is how to spend the evenings … but I probably could import some entertainment. Mass tourism has already destroyed the Côte d’Azur and Rome, in London everything has become hopelessly expensive, New York is vulgar to the point of tears, and Paris is now only for the swindling of stupid tourists. Those tedious, cliché-ridden cabarets in Pigalle … I much prefer a private show: the Hotel Hubertus enveloped by clouds of ammonia.

  I’ve worked a long ten years and I’ve worked hard enough, I should say. I simply have enough of everything. The worldwide sex craze bored me before it got off the ground. Mass duplication precludes true arousal. All I want is a little kitten to play with. When someone has a surplus of free time—and I’ve nothing to do till September—he gets a little frivolous.

  “Ready?” Ziki asked his Wolf.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll cut the telephone wire, activate the ammonia, and before it starts coming out I’ll set off a few explosives. I’ll toss out some RDG, and under its cover I’ll bring her to the car. Can I tie her up?”

  “Only if it’s necessary. — Get out as soon as you can and send me a telegram.”

  “When do we launch the attack?”

  “As soon as I say IT’S STUFFY IN HERE.”

  Ziki had noticed Jagr’s argument with Volrab at the bar, and it seemed he had heard his own name. He picked up his glass of Gancia Bianco, consoled himself with the sight of the yellow rim (yellow excites me) and the silver wheel of the lemon circlet swimming in the pale golden wine, and took a sip, it seemed to him that in the harmony of tastes he recognized a foreign note, and he carefully examined the front and back labels.

  Of course: on the front, under the white letters GANCIA, the royal crest (of the House of Savoy?) and a row of gold medals earned at world fairs, there was a painstakingly depicted picture of the winery in Canelli (Italia) — but on the back, all the way at the bottom, under the words Délicieux, s’il est servi “on the rocks” et un zeste de citron a sudden blow between the eyes: Produit par Vinoprodukt, Zagreb—

  In silent laughter Ziki leaned back in his chair, in this bar nearly everything’s a fake … Volrab is simply a genius at all kinds of doctoring. What sort of face will he put on when he finds guaranteed, 100% RDG under his feet?

  As soon as Volrab returned from the kitchen to the bar (sweaty and flushed), he started to sell tickets for the second drawing in an obsequious fashion (Ruda Mach could not stand obsequiousness) to the “dignitaries” (Ruda Mach could not stand dignitaries), to those district clowns from Jilemnice and to the dandy from Prague, then to Ziki Holy, then to the local clowns, and finally to the summer guests from Usti, and when for the fourth time Volrab turned his back on Ruda as he passed by his table (Ruda could not stand people turning their backs on him), he caught Volrab by the elbow, pulled him toward himself, bought ticket No. 23 (poor girl—how many tickets does that blithering idiot still have?) and rejected a broken carnation (I have enough of Sonya’s in my room already).

  In her long white dress, Sonya (if ever I should happen to get married?…) got up from the piano, drew a ticket from the basket, Volrab, the idiot, called out No. 21, and the first clown from Jilemnice rushed up to lick her over, with disgust Ruda Mach twisted on his chair and looked up at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to see.

  Volrab, the idiot, called out No. 17 and Ruda Mach went on gazing at the ceiling (his jackknife was opening in his pocket) and then the idiot called out No. 23, that’s me.

  Ruda got up, stepped forward, tripped over somebody’s foot, and fell on the floor, he shot glances all around him and saw Wolf Zahn, who was guffawing into his mug — the heavy had stuck out his stump and upended me. Ruda sat up, looked around, then quick as lightning seized the leg of Zahn’s chair, jolted it a trifle in his own direction (tipping it backwards) and then in the opposite direction, propelling Zahn right into Ziki’s lap, he brushed his hands off on his knees, rose, and went up to Sonya to claim his kiss.

  “Things here are beginning to go downhill,” he told her after the kiss (which was like sugar candy).

  “Yes, Mr. Mach,” she told him (he had never had such a beautiful girl before).

  “Sonya, it would have been better if you had cleared out of here while there was time.”

  “But where, Mr. Mach?” There was something like an invitation in her voice (he made a mental note of this).

  “Somewhere out…”

  “By myself I’m afraid.” The invitation in her voice increased (he made a mental note of this).

  “I’d go with you, if you’d like.”

  “That might be wonder
ful, Mr. Mach…”

  “It will be wonderful. Give me a kiss.”

  And Sonya did—twice on a single ticket—and what a kiss! (he was making mental notes of everything) and the scarecrows in the bar began to grouse loudly. Volrab (he won’t try anything on me again, and if he does—!) quickly called out the next number, 15, and the smith from Cottex marched quickly up to Sonya (it’s okay when it’s a pal) and now the scarecrows quieted down.

  Jakub covered his face with his hands, so he wouldn’t have to see Mach (ticket No. 23) kiss Sonya — he was letting his hands fall to the table when he heard the fall of a body. And when Mach whirled Zahn into Ziki’s lap with such acceleration that the two crooks and the chair crashed to the floor, a whole series of new combinations rushed through the young engineer’s head.

  Evidently Mach does not belong to Ziki’s gang, they’re not putting on a show—and what purpose would it serve anyway?—and so the pistol scene Mach vs. Ziki on Wednesday evening wasn’t camouflage either, but further evidence of the rivalry Ziki-Mach. Evidently that was why Ziki had armed himself…

  Mach kissed Sonya and then Sonya kissed Mach a second time in such a way that Jakub’s head was swimming … But at that moment Sonya’s safety was at stake … even at the cost of establishing a hitherto unimaginable (and then imaginable only for as long as the campaign takes) contact—

  While the hunchbacked smith was still kissing Sonya, Jakub raced between the tables to Ruda’s, and before the newly chosen ally even had time to sit down, Jakub invited him to “step out for a tête-à-tête.”

  “We’ll dish it out in the yard,” Mach said cheerfully, “and may the best man win—” and when the two young men got outside in the dark, Mach asked Jakub seriously where he wanted to be laid out.

  “I don’t want to fight you—” Jakub blurted out.

  “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to it—”

  “—but there’s something I have to show you…”

  Jakub led Mach to the side of the gangsters’ van, crawled through the open window, and then, as proof, showed Mach one piece of terrorist armament after another, the charges, the RDG smoke bombs, the ammonia, and the chloroform…